


Serenity

by BarbarianLibrarian



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Family, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-11
Updated: 2013-08-11
Packaged: 2017-12-23 04:18:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/921904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarbarianLibrarian/pseuds/BarbarianLibrarian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A moment of peaceful calm before a job, unfinished.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Serenity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [prettymanly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettymanly/gifts).



> Crossposted [here](http://a-necessary-fiction.tumblr.com/post/53210187053/drabble-serenity).  
> * _哥哥 / ge ge / gē ge_ \- Mandarin; "elder brother".

When making one’s bed with the homeless, the first thing that stands out (and ultimately needs to be forgotten) is the smell. Days worth of BO and flop sweat mixed with stale tobacco, piss, and desperation all rolled into one sinus blasting street-potpurri that sours the expression.

Dapples of weak sunlight start the worm through the cracks between the looser, drafty boards of the train car walls, all seeming to aim for Shin’s poor, abused retinas. He rubs the sleep from his eyes and stretches in place, joints creaking. The train car’s bobbing rhythmically, like a boat out to sea, the sunlight blinding and obnoxious in his sleepy haze. Through the cracks, he can make out the pink-orange haze of dawn melting into miles of blue and thick looking, bubbly clouds. Aside from feeling like he’s being stabbed in the eyeballs, it’s actually kinda pretty.

Mako is a pleasant warm spot beside him, his younger features soft and unmarred by that tough as fucking coffin nails perma-scowl he usually has etched on his chubby face like a miniature gargoyle. The way the sunlight curves around Mako’s cheek, he really looks alive. Like in one of those rosy-cheeked paintings of sleeping babies in miles of lace and peachy roses, except he’s covered in dirt. That grime and wear marring his clothes and skin doesn’t lessen it, if anything, it makes him more alive than the fat, apple-cheeked things portrayed in those pictures.

He stirs faintly, not quite awake, but lucid enough to remember where they are, on the way to a job unfinished.

“How much longer ‘till we’re there,  _ge ge_?”

“I’d say about another hour in. Go back to sleep while ya still can. We’ll need it.”

 _Damn, it’s warm_. Normally that’d make him itchy and prone to rolling around, but he isn’t about to kick some lush in the face, considering the space on the floor’s at a premium. One of the lumps in a tattered overcoat grunts and rolls a few times, getting a little too close for comfort near the sleeping kid beside him. Shin pulls Mako backwards a little by the suspender fastener attached to the back of his pants, oversized and too wide on his rail-thin frame. He eyeballs the drifter beside them suspiciously until no further movement is made and his own paranoia finally ebbs away into the desire to go back to sleep. Then freezes and goes all bug-eyed when Mako turns toward him, buries his face in his jacket like he’s being tucked in and mutters something unintelligible under his breath.

It’s times like these when it’s easy to remember the little spitfire’s just a kid. Wet behind the ears and more trouble than he’s worth.

Shin shivers a little once the wind picks up and leaks through the gaps in the boards, curling closer around Mako’s skinny, ludicrously toasty presence- a mess of all elbows and knees. He’s just trying to keep his damn balls from freezing off and firebenders were always like walking, smack-talking radiators, he thinks, before drifting off again into a pleasant, dreamless sleep.


End file.
